Crown Me, Prince

by Frankie Love

I haven’t even heard who my husband will be, but already this is the best news I’ve heard all year.

  All decade.

  I’m getting the heck out of dodge.

  I want more. And yes, I know I sound like a VHS recording of Ariel in The Little Mermaid. But is that the worst thing in the world, to want more than this water-locked island has to offer? Because I feel like I’m drifting in a circle, like I haven’t started my life, and all I see when I look at social media on my stupid phone is a big, bright world waiting for me.

  I want in on it.

  “And who am I to marry?” I ask tentatively. My fingers are already wrapped around my cell phone; I’m ready to Google the shit out of whoever he says is my royal ticket out of here.

  “You’ll be marrying Prince Garrick of Alpinweiss,” my father says, holding up his hand. “And before you put up a fuss, Iris, let me explain. His family is incredibly wealthy. The country of Alpinweiss is an abundant land, full of natural resources and a military that has kept them front and center in international negotiations. And while Garrick is known for being a bit of a recluse—he hasn’t shown his face in the public sector for years, but...”

  I tune out the rest of his words. Because literally none of them matter.

  The country of Alpinweiss is abundant. That translates to the more I’m looking for. The more I’ve been dreaming about.

  I wrap my arms around Father, never having been so excited in my entire life.

  I am going to marry a prince.

  I am leaving Elexia, finally!

  I’ve never dreamed of finding Prince Charming ... but I think my own happily ever after fantasy is just about to come true.

  Chapter 2

  Oh, hell no.

  Look, my parents have been running potential wife options by me for the last two fucking years. I’ve vetoed every last one of them. I’m not opposed to marriage—of course not. I want a woman to keep me warm just like the next man, but I’m not interested in a woman who doesn’t understand a mountain prince like me.

  Alpinweiss is a country full of money. We’re rich for one motherfucking reason: we’re not idiots. Though I tend to think the people my parents surround themselves with are a bunch of fucking jokes, always holding their heads high like they’re better than everyone else, never thinking about the common man who needs a leg up.

  That’s why I live like I do. I don’t think just because I have a title I should have any special privileges.

  “We told you after you nixed the last princess we found that the next time we found a viable option, we were agreeing to it with or without your consent. Remember?” my father says.

  I swing my axe into the final log, chopping it into a good size for my wood-burning stove. I remember the conversation from last month, clear as the crisp morning air. My parents aren’t forcing me ... hell, I forced this upon myself for taking so damn long to make up my mind. I knew this day was going to come.

  “So, Son,” my mother says, “we found a princess whose father will actually send his daughter out here, to you, in the middle of nowhere—though of course we didn’t detail the state of your housing.”

  Mother looks around my property: the cabin I built with my hands, the thick forest around us. As far from the Historic Village of Alpinweiss as I could get without leaving the village altogether.

  Only thing worse than being in that town, filled with cobblestone roads and horse-drawn carriages, and so many fucking tourists gawking at our “quaint town,” is going over the mountains into the big cities of Alpinweiss.

  “It’s a rare king desperate enough to send his daughter off to marry a man like you. But we need an heir.” My mother crosses her arms, her fingers tapping over her elbow. Her face is stern, and written with annoyance. She has no patience for my life choices.

  “So what’s wrong with this girl if her dad is so desperate he’ll send her to the crazy man who lives in the woods?” I scoff, dusting the dirt off my palms.

  I live out in the woods and make no apologies for that. Most princesses are used to marble-floored castles, servants waiting on them hand and foot, and balls where they wear glass fucking slippers.

  That is not the life a princess is going to get with me. I moved out of my parents’ “house” as soon as I could.

  “Nothing is wrong with her, per se,” my mother continues. “In fact, she comes across as quite amiable.”

  “You met her?” I shake my head and drop the axe onto the tree stump.

  My parents came out here to my cabin today to break the news. I live here because I like to keep an eye on things in the forest, and that’s hard to do that when you’re up at the main estate. Well, I guess you could call it the main castle. Our historic castle looks more Winterfell than Casterly Rock, if you want to get all Game of Thrones about it.

  And yes, I’ve read the books, and no I haven’t watched the show, because I don’t have a goddamned television.

  Still, the castle is a castle. Electricity, internet, washing machines—and beyond those basics, it has top-of-the-line everything.

  I avoid the tourists like the plague. They’re just as bad as the dignitaries working the room at every royal function.

  Hence, my cabin in the woods.

  “We haven’t met her, but she does love to post photos of her life on Instagram. She’s just beautiful. Love,” she says to my father, “explain to him who his princess bride is.”

  My father nods and continues. “Her name is Iris and she has the, ahem, requirements of a princess.”

  Requirements is my father’s delicate way of saying she’s a virgin. Which to my parents is an important aspect of this dowry they are offering.

  Not that I mind. A virginal princess is an instant hard-on no matter how rough and rugged a man lives.

  “Okay,” I say. “So this pure princess, where does she come from?”

  “She comes from... Elexia,” my mother says. She immediately drops her eyes to the ground, knowing I’m not going to like this answer.

  “Are you kidding me?” I snort. This is a goddamned joke. “I bet she’s never even set foot in the mountains. Does she even own a pair of boots? Or know how to snow ski? No way in hell is this going to work. Good try, though.” I shake my head again, grabbing my axe from the stump and walking toward my cabin door.

  “It’s not a choice. It’s happening, Garrick. I paid the dowry.” My father’s words stop me in my tracks. “A double dowry.”

  “This is really happening?”

  “It’s really happening, Garrick,” my mother says, reaching for my hand. “I want a grandbaby. Your father needs an heir. We’re not doing this to be mean... We’re doing it because we love you. It’s time you settled down.”

  I tense, running my hand over my beard, knowing that my parents have been lenient with me my entire life, looking the other way when I took a barmaid to bed or a ranch girl to the stables. That’s all about to change. “You’re setting this girl up to fail; you know that, right?”

  “Oh, just turn on the charm, Garrick,” my mother says snidely.

  There are a few things that anyone who knows me at all knows: I don’t do BS, I don’t pretend, I am what I am, and you get what you get.

  “When is she coming?” I ask.

  “Tomorrow. Elexia has really put themselves in a financial bind, as I’m sure you know.” Mother grimaces, knowing I’m like my father in a lot of ways. I read as much information as I can about the state of the world economy.

  I understand my family obligations; I just avoid the castle like the plague. If my father has a job for me, I’ll do it. He keeps hinting that I could be the royal ambassador, but hell, I don’t want to travel around the fucking world all alone meeting a bunch of leaders who are as dull as my parents’ friends.

  “This is really the best you could do?” I ask.

  “Well,” Father says, “you did veto the last eight viable princesses, Garrick. You did this to yourself.”

  “No big wedding,” I insist.
“I’ll show up and do my duty, but I will not participate in some parade around Historic Alpinweiss. Understood?”

  Mother frowns, but nods. “Understood. We can have a private ceremony with just us. I do wish you’d let us show you off though.”

  “No show,” I reinforce. “I’m not some circus act.” I’d rather have a pint with men at a pub than drink champagne with people who don’t know how to get their hands dirty.

  My father shakes his head. “Nothing is ever easy with you, Garrick.”

  “Not easy?” I jeer. “I require so little. I’m here in this cabin, not bothering a goddamned soul.”

  “But you’re the prince, Garrick,” Mother moans. “You have a royal duty to the people.”

  I wince. I don’t mind getting married; if this is what my family needs, that’s what I’ll do. I won’t shirk my responsibility. Not today, not ever.

  “I don’t need to live in the castle to prove I’m a prince.”

  “I’m not sure Iris is going to understand that,” my mother adds, looking over my shoulder at my one-room cabin.

  “She’s going to have to find a way to wrap her mind around my life. I live outside of town for a reason. It keeps me grounded, keeps my priorities straight. I can do whatever the country asks of me without being waited on hand and foot. I don’t need hot water in this cabin to prove I care about my country.”

  My parents exchange a look, like they’re in on something I don’t know.

  “What?”

  My father claps me on the back. “Marriage is a steep learning curve, son.”

  “Be easy on Iris, is what we’re trying to say,” my mother adds. “She’s from a tropical island. This is going to be a culture shock—and remember, this is an arranged marriage for her as well.”

  I nod, wondering about this woman they are sending me. A tropical fucking island? There’s no way in living hell she’s going to be able to handle a mountain prince like me.

  Chapter 3

  For the next week I alternate between giddy excitement and nervous energy. Basically, I’m a helium balloon with no intention of bursting. I am thrilled to the max.

  First Violet flies off to Prince Hunter of Cressia, because apparently the eldest sister is the one who gets to marry first—which I totally understand. I’m just a little jealous that she gets to be the first to pop her royal cherry.

  And with Prince Hunter being her husband, I have no doubt a bad boy prince like him will easily get her into bed. Even though she’s so committed to resistance until her wedding night.

  Once we get word that she married him, I prepare to leave for Alpinweiss.

  And I have no doubt that I’ll soon be in my betrothed’s arms. I’m so ready to tackle whatever Prince Garrick of Alpinweiss has to throw my way.

  I’m not an idiot. I know his reputation—you know, the one that mentions his scowl and his brooding eyes and his rough exterior?

  I’m not the least bit scared. I’m not intimidated by a man who’s a bit reclusive.

  I’m up for a challenge. And I have no doubt I’ll win him over.

  I’ve even deleted every social media app from my phone. I don’t need that distraction anymore; I have an adventure waiting for me in Alpinweiss.

  My father thought marrying Garrick might upset me, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Marrying a man in another country, with new traditions and customs, different food?

  Bring it on.

  “You’re not even the least bit scared that he’s going to be this big, burly jerk?” Dahlia asks as we pack my meager suitcase for the expedition across the world to meet my soon-to-be-husband.

  “I wouldn’t use the word scared. I’m anxious—it’s all new, uncharted territory—but it’s like I’m an explorer.” I paint a picture with my hands, laughing as I explain. “This is like a safari, only better. There won’t be any wild animals, just a wild man getting his bride.”

  I raise my shoulders in excitement and clap my hands together in determination.

  “You are going to have sex with a virtual stranger. Isn’t that intimidating?”

  “That’s the best part,” I laugh.

  Dahlia grimaces, and I squeeze her shoulders. My little sister may be scared, but I’ve spent enough years touching myself in the shower, imagining a man who wanted to explore my body. I’m not scared of that part.

  That’s the part that already has me clenching my thighs together in anticipation. Giving my husband my body is just part of the glamour of this arrangement.

  I’m so ready to be someone’s woman. To let them discover all of me, and me all of them. I want a man who’s willing to teach me everything I want to know.

  I hope my husband is ready to show me what it means to be a woman.

  Dahlia looks concerned.

  “I suppose I’m a little anxious,” I sigh. “But the good kind of anxious. I want an adventure. It isn’t about fancy ball gowns and royal balls—those would be fun, but really, any adventure will do. You know that I’ve been waiting to start my life for as long as I’ve been alive.”

  “Yes, we all remember when you tried to run away,” Dahlia says, raising an eyebrow. “But Iris, you’ve had a life right here in Elexia. It’s not like living here is the worst thing in the world.”

  “How many times can we collect seashells and go swimming in the waterfall and pick coconuts? I want something more.”

  “But Historic Alpinweiss isn’t exactly a booming metropolis. You’ve seen it on the Internet, haven’t you? You know there aren’t massive shopping centers or Michelin-rated restaurants. Alpinweiss has big cities, but the castle is located in the heart of a Bavarian-esque village. It might be more like Elexia than you want to admit.”

  Dahlia bites her bottom lip as she folds my underwear. Because that’s the sort of girl Dahlia is: an underwear folder. Slow and cautious. Methodical and concerned.

  “Don’t give me that,” I say, grabbing the panties from her fingers and tossing them onto the pile of clothes I’ve gathered to stuff in my suitcase. “The Internet doesn’t always give you the most accurate picture of a place. So what, Google maps didn’t locate a shopping mall in the village. That doesn’t mean there aren’t carefully curated boutique shops full of one-of-a-kind pieces. It doesn’t mean there aren’t independent cafés that have underground followings and off-the-grid infamy. I’m not looking for expensive stores on Rodeo Drive. I’m just looking for something different. Something exciting. Something new.”

  I fall to my bed, dramatically clutching a pair of underwear, my eyes wide open and my heart bursting and everything full and alive.

  Possible.

  “I just think your expectations might be a little high?” Dahlia says, lying in the bed beside me, grabbing my hand. “I don’t want you disappointed, Iris. And the truth is, you haven’t even seen a photograph of your husband-to-be. Isn’t that a little ... alarming?”

  “Dahlia, you’re supposed to be the supportive sister. Not the one raining on my bridal parade.”

  “I’m not trying to rain on anything,” Dahlia promises, and changes the subject. “I can’t believe were all actually getting married. Do you think Violet is happy?”

  “I’m sure she is. In fact, I think Violet and Hunter’s rocky road to the altar confirms that things don’t have to be perfect for them to end well. Garrick is a reclusive mountain prince, so what? He could be holed up in a castle library, drinking whiskey and reading Proust. We have no idea what he’s like. There are worse things than not having a photo on the Internet, aren’t there?”

  “There are worse things,” Dahlia agrees. “Garrick could not want to marry you.”

  I look at my sister aghast. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  “Of course Garrick is going to want to marry you,” Dahlia insists. “Iris, you have a perfect heart-shaped face, golden hair to your waist, bright blue eyes that shine like the sea, and a go get ’em attitude that can charm the pants off anyone. Any prince.”

  “
Thanks, Dahlia. I just want everything to go perfectly.”

  We sit up in the bed, both of us knowing the time has come for me to board a plane to my new home.

  “And listen,” I tell her. “I know when it’s your turn to get on a plane to your prince, you won’t have any sisters here giving you a pep talk, but you must promise to call.”

  “I’ll call,” Dahlia says squeezing me. “But right now, you don’t need to focus on me. I’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  “Well, stop your worrying. Because there’s literally not a single reason to think that this won’t go exactly as I’ve dreamed.”

  Chapter 4

  I finish stacking the wood that I spent yesterday chopping, and use a cloth to mop the sweat off the base of my neck. I look around the yard for my discarded shirt and grab it, then button it up as I walk into the cabin.

  My back is slick with sweat and my flannel shirt sticks to it. Walking over to the sink, I pump water into a basin and wash the dust from my face. I scrub my knuckles and my fingertips, knowing my mother will look down at me if I show up to my wedding with dirty hands.

  I look around my cabin, the place I’ve called home for the last eight years. I built this place with my own two hands when I was still a teenager being tutored in my parents’ fancy-ass palace. In the afternoons I’d come out here. I laid the foundation, then chopped down one tree at a time as I built my four walls, as I put a roof over my head. It’s strange to think I’ll be sharing this room with another person tonight.

  Not wanting to be a complete asshole, I straighten the quilt on my bed. I make an effort to clear the drain board of washed dishes, and stack the plates neatly on the shelving above the sink.

  As I walk toward the front door, the floorboard creaks, just like it does every single day. I’ve thought of fixing that creak a hundred times, but then I remember that imperfect moments are what make life memorable. I’ll keep a creaky floorboard, just like I’ll keep my showers cold. If things become too easy, too “perfect,” I might forget how good this life really is. And all good things take time.